


Wither's Curse (A Hogwarts AU)

by Postscript (Puppydog26)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (Bad is Sapnap's dad), (But like so is everyone), (I mean if you know anything about voldemort then-), (Not sure how explicit it'll be but it's there), (There's like this curse I'm sure you're familiar with), (There's some harry potter characters but I don't plan on giving them big roles so), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bigotry & Prejudice, DARK HOGWARTS, Dark Arts, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Resistance, Sapnap-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Torture, slytherin!dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29941617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puppydog26/pseuds/Postscript
Summary: Harry Potter is deadVoldemort will rule with power and death- ForeverSapnap never knew the fantasies and fairy tales of prosperous times. A resistance fight that does no more then spread flies and eavesdrop at the concern of his father. But then he gets his wish, a dream built from bedtime stories and reminiscences- he's sent to Hogwarts.Nothing of the past survives the iron fist, but reality has its own secrets.SPOILERS obviously. It would make more sense if you read the seven books, but you might scrape an Acceptable without.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Wither's Curse (A Hogwarts AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resistance

Soot clung like ink to Sapnap's skin, spilling like black fumes past his fingers. Crouching on chilled coals, he swallowed, not daring to breathe. Rough bricks of an old hearth scraped his palms, and a fire rolled in his gut. 

He gripped his wand, ears straining to catch a sound. A telling creak of wood. A rustle of paper. He saw nothing past the iron grating, through the mask bound around his eyes. A smog of midnight shrouded the room. 

Only his stifled breath and ticking watch tarred the silence, the seconds on beat with his pulse, and Phil's orders spun like a mantra in his head. 

_ Etch the rune in every corner you see. _ His wand twitched in his hand.

_ Douse the cellar in Nether ash. _ The sack of ammo seemed to grow hotter against his stomach.

_ Smash the blaze.  _ The creature snarled in the glass. Shielded in newspaper and fabric in his deepest pocket. 

_ And effing run.  _

A count of three, where he squeezed his eyes shut and whispered a prayer to Phil, to the others that were in the forbidding night with him, and stepped out. Cool air graced his skin, before turning to ice. Moonlight puffed in, giving the barest of outlines. Shelves loomed above him, branches reaching to the arched ceiling. An ocean of flickering pamphlets towered around him. A lair of forgery and lies, Phil said. Forgery and lies. 

He crept to the outer walls, ducking under windows. Steel bars veiled the glass, a bird's cage. Murmuring the incantation, his wand traced the motions, red shimmering spells carving into wood. His mind floated above him like a ghost. Unthinking, the spells flowing from hours of practice, hammered into him. Weeks of planning. With a palette of white lies. 

Bad would not be in the Ministry. 

He finished the symbol with a flick of his wrist and hastened to the next. It dripped like running blood and wet ink. 

His father would be in the cover of night alongside the rest of the Order, smuggling muggle-borns into hiding. Children who only knew the evil regime, who never understood the spark of magic they possessed. Rushed explanations and scary strangers, but better than leaving them to the wrath of death eaters.

Bad had closed the door that night, assured that his son would be safely in bed. He didn't know that Sapnap was swept in with Phil. That Phil reluctantly agreed to use his help a moon ago. Phil’s own kid, Techno, was a block away from him, painting the same runes, in the same danger. 

He was halfway done, intricate writing sprawled like vines. His wrist ached and he flexed his fingers for a moment’s rest.

Philza is the one in the Ministry tonight. The only one. Sending their last pled abroad. The Dark Lord had shut down their one communication line to the Americas and the rest of Europe. Blockaded by a siege of death eaters and the dome of black magic, Phil beseeched the rest of the Order that that was their only hope, that they reestablish contact with their allies. Everyone, Bad, Weasley, Shacklebolt- refused. Perilous and ludicrous, to even suggest to send their best Aurors to a sure death trap. And so Phil acted on his own. With two underage wizards. Minors who could barely cast a summoning charm before the nights of determined and frantic studies.

The last of the runes melded into the floor from clammy hands. He had drifted to the back of the bookstore, charms glittering in the ebony mist. The timer ticked down for the synchronized explosion, and his mind swooped back to shaking arms. The metal chain dug into his wrist. Sapnap didn't have to look at it to know the seconds draining.

Ice chills crawled up his spine. A ridge in the floor, barely, barely, illuminated with starlight. The cellar. The second part of his instructions fell like rocks in his stomach. He was on his knees before he knew it, wood giving way under his fingers, door swinging into the black pit below. 

" _ Lumos _ ." His croak ruptured the silence, and the trembling blue light did nothing to penetrate the shadows. Threads of rope dangled into void. One beat, then two. Wand gripped tightly in his hand, he descended down the darkness. The coarse twine cut into his hands, and moonlight haze swayed above his head. Down, down, down. 

His foot struck cold marble. He held on for an extra moment, a blindfold of ink over his eyes. Then let go. 

Lights flickered on. 

He yelped, the sound echoing back around him. He spun, wand aiming wildly for a jeering face, another wand, bellowing black robes of a death eater advancing. 

There was nothing. No breath except his own. He backed away, turning in another circle. Blinking, the harsh shock of blinding light receded. No one lunged towards him, no wands slashing with a curse. Just him and the glaring suns above. 

A blinking red dot caught his eye. He stared, hand extended. 

Motion light sensors. 

Stupid. Muggle. Sensors. 

Dumb, inconvient, technology. His head spun and his heart meandered back to his chest with a hint of a laugh bubbling along with it. 

It shriveled as soon as it came. A white cliff of cabinets and drawers drowned the back wall. Unwavering and identical. He turned. 

Iron cages lined the other three walls. Bars jutted like teeth into the stone enclosure. Around two dozen of them squashed in a room no bigger than a storage space. Small, tight, and glistening pristine. His wand was up again and his mouth went dry. 

Tiny, tiny, not even the most rabid dog should be in it. The cold brought new fangs with it. A smell of antiseptic. Swirling and pulsing. Sterile and white. Sterile and white and iron claws- His senses urged him to run. To drop a match on oil and flee before piercing jaws snapped shut on him. 

He shook his head, peeling back the dizziness. He had a task to do. His feet dragged him closer. He had a task to do and these are not the same cages. He reached out to touch them. Not the same-

His hand jerk back, stinging like adder's venom. Burning because it was blighted for its prisoners. Anyone who's shoved in, thrown in. Snarling and hissing. The same curse, for the same torment-

Writing flashed where he touched. Mashed and crowded, one word, over and over, a chain around the scores of barbs. 

_ Mudbloods. _

_ Mudbloods, mudbloods, mudbloods _

It couldn't be clearer. Bound poison and shackles. For children. Children.

And without looking, without seeing, he knew the contents of the shelves behind him. 

His mind spiraled away again. The woolsack of powder thudded to the floor. Sliced open. Metal filings spilled, ringing and tinkling and dispersing under the brandish of his wand. His clock rattled, the ticking sped to a buzz.

Phil had not told him. Phil had not answer when he asked what the basement contained.  _ It's no use if you know. I'd rather you create the distraction while I know you're doing it. _

He was right. Right, right, right. He would have razed it the moment he knew. Broad daylight, eyes en masse, didn't matter. He would have. And he's doing it now. While marble and chalky walls, smeared with smoke and gray. Not again. Never again. 

The clock shook violently, a rising crescendo. Sapnap fished out the last item in his pocket. Tore away the cloth and paper from the bottle. Inside it, a demon of fire. 

A blaze, the size of his fist growled at him, heat shooting through thick glass. Its wild flames spun brighter. Black pinpricks for eyes locked with his. A promise of flames and destruction. Not a full one that towered to the ceilings. A bred one, for its swiftness and inextinguishable fire. 

The watch jerk once, then fell still. Glowed a bright blue. 

Glass shattered on marble and Sapnap saw the flames spark blue on the nether ash before the Portkey whisked him away. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> wooo no idea what i'm doing  
> I prob need to edit later
> 
> Comments, kudos appreciated! plz i need the feedback xd


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